Steve smiled too, but he wasn’t sure what to say or do. He looked around quickly to make sure nobody had seen or heard what Erica had said, but everybody around him was involved in personal conversations.
Steve felt completely off-balance. Usually he would find
himself in a position to initiate some sort of intimacy on a date. Erica had turned the table on him, and he was unsure where to go with it. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the affection that she had showed, but he wasn’t sure if he was reading the right signals. He surely didn’t want to be too aggressive and upset her, but maybe that kind of energy was what she wanted. He just wasn’t sure.
There was one thing that was for sure: he didn’t want to screw up and ruin their chemistry.
“Hey.” Her sweet voice regained his attention. “I’m really sorry. I probably said a few things that were out of line, at least for now.” She giggled a little. “I’m really a lightweight, and I guess I didn’t feel how strong those margaritas were until I got up.”
“That’s okay,” said Steve. “I can feel the tequila, too. Maybe until we have some food in our stomach we should have some Pepsi or something.”
“Caffeine!” yelled Erica. “I drink caffeine all day at the hospital in order to get the work done. No, this is a night out, and I am going to treat it like that. I’m just apologizing and warning you now that I get a little goofy when I drink, whether there is food in my stomach or not.” With that, she held up her glass and motioned to the waiter for another.
They continued to talk throughout dinner. Between the serious comments, they found things to giggle about. As the time went by, they spent more and more time giggling rather than earnestly discussing work.
The waiter was clearing the last of their plates, and Erica was laughing. “So your dad made you do mouth-to-mouth at the young age of ten? That’s funny. That would have been a turn off for me to enter the medical field. I still get grossed out doing codes and CPR. The nice thing about doing the codes in the hospital is that you can at least use an ambu bag. I still freak about putting my lips to some stranger’s and blowing hot air. There is only one situation I want my lips on someone else’s, and it better not be a stranger. Otherwise my mother would be very disappointed.”
Steve laughed. “So what about you, Erica? Why did you decide to get into medicine?”
“Well, it’s kind of a sad story. My dad died when I was eighteen, and my mom still had four young kids at home, so I thought I would get a job to help support the household. Twelve years later, I’m finally ready to get a job to help my mom. The only problem is that all the kids are grown up and out of the house, and my mom remarried a rich guy, so I did all this shit for nothing.”
Steve listened intently, but was looking at her for a hint to tell if she was giving him the truth or bullshit.
She recognized his curious look and giggled. “Okay, I’m messing with you again. I can’t help it! It’s that you’re so gullible. But I will say my dad did die when I was leaving for college. I saw him suffer with his cancer for a long time, and I decided then to help people who are afflicted with cancer as much as I can.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your dad, but I can see how that
would influence anyone in that situation. And I think that will make you a better doctor. I mean, to be perceptive of other people’s emotional wellbeing while taking care of their medical and physical issues. That’s excellent. So are you going to complete an oncology fellowship?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. I want to take care of people and all, but I don’t want to limit my practice to just cancer patients. You know what I mean?”
“Oh, sure,” replied Steve. “I can understand. But you are
so great with your patients and you are so humorous. I just think you could make the most difficult situation more comfortable for really sick patients.”
“That’s nice of you, Steve, but you haven’t even seen me with my patients. I’m pretty serious and anal about their care. It’s just when I get around cute surgery residents that I get so nervous I can’t stay serious. And besides it’s so easy to give you shit I just can’t help myself.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Steve grinned.
Erica glanced at her watch. “Whoops. I guess we’ll have to make a movie next time. That is, if you want to get together again?”
Steve looked at his watch too and saw the time in disbelief. “Ten-thirty. Shit, where did the time go? I’m sorry about the movie, but next time sounds great.”
“Well, Steve, not all of us are as fortunate as you to have a weekend off. See, Internal Medicine residents are a little more hardcore than you surgeons. We don’t believe in taking weekends off, so I think I should get home sometime soon ’cause I’m on call tomorrow.”
“Sure, that sounds fine,” said Steve.
As if the waiter were eavesdropping, he came by just then and dropped off the bill.
Steve glanced at the ticket briefly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of money. He placed three twenties on the table and then motioned to Erica’s chair. “May I help you, ma’am? I mean, with all that alcohol tonight...”
They both laughed as Steve reached over to help Erica up. They continued to giggle as they leaned on each other to walk out.
Steve noticed that barely anybody was left in the restaurant. “I guess we’re closing the place tonight.”
“Maybe the restaurant, but not the cantina,” said Erica.
Steve heard the loud music and laughter as they passed the entryway to the bar. He motioned to Erica to go into the bar for a drink, but she just shook her head no.
“Sorry, tomorrow’s a school day.” They both laughed. “Well,
okay since you’re twisting my arm, just one more.”
They sat in a corner for a nightcap. They talked and talked, never really noticing the people around them. After another hour, Erica went to the bathroom again, and then they left. As they walked out, Erica leaned her slim body against Steve, smiled up at him, and grabbed his hand. They were mutually content.
The drive home was somewhat quiet. Steve wasn’t sure where to go with all these non-verbal signals, but Erica was about to pass out. When they pulled up to her building, he got out and hurried to the passenger side to help her out. When he opened the door, she jerked up as if to wake.
“Sorry, I guess I feel asleep. I’m so embarrassed! Sorry.”
“That’s okay, but let’s get you inside so you can get some real sleep before tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow. Shit, that’s right, I’ve got to work. Sometimes I hate working.” Erica giggled to herself as they made it to the front door.
They both stopped to face each other at the doorway. Steve felt a little awkward as they gazed into one another’s eyes, but he slowly reached over to hold her hands, and Erica let him. They both smiled and he slowly moved toward her for a kiss.
When their lips met, he closed his eyes to enjoy her kiss. After a few perfect seconds, he slowly leaned back.
“Well, that was nice,” said Erica. “I look forward to the movie next time.” She smiled.
Steve took the cue. “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
“Ok,” Erica responded, still smiling.
Steve started to turn toward his car, but Erica was still holding onto his hands. She pulled him back close to her. She gently put both her hands on either side of his soft, shaven face. With a slow but deliberate motion, she gently brought his face close to hers. She sensually touched his lips with a finger and then placed her lips on his and kissed him.
After one last sensual kiss, she touched his face and said goodnight.
Chapter 18
Kandahar, Afghanistan
The room was a picture of poverty. The cement walls had paint peeling from the edges along the corners. The windows were small, square, and above everyone’s eyesight. The depth of the glass only allowed a fraction of light to penetrate, giving the room a permanent appearance of dark gloom.
The vertical bars on the windows gave a feeling of imprisonment. A musty smell seeped from the walls of cement and the dampness of the building. Only one light hung from the ceiling, a large round lamp with a single light bulb surrounded by a reflective material. Directly beneath the light was a wobbly wooden table the shape of a medical exam table.
Atop the table was a young man with torn pants that were a little too short and very dirty. His shirt had been removed, and he lay motionless on the table. His breathing was short and shallow. A plastic mask lay over his mouth and nose, and a small thin tube went from the mask to a canister with peeling green paint. On the side of the canister was written Oxygen. An IV connected his left hand to a glass bottle of clear fluid. A man near the bottle intermittently injected medicine into the IV tubing from a syringe.
A white sheet with a hole in the center was draped over the young man’s right lower abdomen. Red stains from the boy’s blood framed the hole in the sheet. Inside the hole was a moderate size cut on the young man’s skin. Within the small cut, the beginning of his colon with a thin tubular structure arising from the surface could be seen. No redness surrounded this tubular structure, nor was there any inflammation, pus or
swelling associated with it.
Standing alongside the table was an older man with a pair of plastic gloves and a paper mask covering his mouth and nose. He wore no hat or gown. He was quietly moving instruments around in the wound. He worked swiftly because the young man was heavily sedated but not under a general anesthetic.
“Dr. Mohammad, please,” said a man who stood behind the man with the mask. “My friend, we have been through this many times. It must be done my way.”
“I know, but this poor man needs to travel to the United States,” pleaded the doctor. “If I don’t tie off the base of his appendix, he will surely die before he arrives at his destination.”
“Just the contrary, doctor. I will remind you that young Ziamuddin is very aware of the risks of this mission. He has given his body and soul for the cause. Let’s not take that away from him. When he wakes up, he plans to carry out his part of the mission. We need to assure ourselves that Ziamuddin does make it to his destination. Once there, he will visit with a doctor who will discover the problem and make him feel better. But in order to see that doctor, he must be sick, very sick. So please, Ahmed, don’t tie off the appendiceal stump. Do it for me, do it for the cause, and most importantly do it for your daughter. I believe she still lives in Kabul?”
“WHAT?” exclaimed Dr. Mohammad. “Abbas, you guaranteed to leave my family out of this. You must leave them alone. I beg you, please leave my family alone!”
“Ahmed, do it my way, and no harm will come to your family.”
The doctor continued to work. The appendix was free except where it was attached directly to the colon. Dr. Mohammad glanced up at a window and stared for a minute before he took a knife and cut the appendix off flush with the outside of the colon. He picked up a suture. “Abbas, let me just dunk the stump and bury it into the colon. I’m sure he will still get sick for you, for us, for the cause.”
The man who stood behind him placed his hand firmly on Dr. Mohammad’s right forearm. Gently the man pushed his hand down. “Please, my friend, this young boy Ziamuddin has to carry out this mission that he so graciously has volunteered for. Let him fulfill his commitment to the cause. Otherwise, he will be terribly disappointed. Let’s not disappoint him.”
Dr. Mohammad again glanced out the tiny window toward the sky. He spent another moment contemplating his dilemma and then gently pushed the colon back into the abdomen and under the wound. He grabbed a plastic clear bag of white powder. The bag was securely closed, but the doctor rechecked it one more time before gently pushing it through the incision. The bag was quite large for the relatively small incision, but he gently pushed and squeezed the contents until the bag slid in. The doctor inspected the bag one more time to make sure it had no defects. He gently laid it alongside the colon near where the appendix had been. He hesitantly sewed the layers of tissue together and closed the abdominal incision. When the surgery was done, he tore off his gloves and turned around to face Abbas.
“I’m through with this dirty work for you. It has gone on far too long. We have not made any progress with our mission, but we still put our youth at great risk. For what? To make a point? No one listens, Abbas. No one! I’m tired. You must let me live my life now. I must go. I must go, and please don’t bother me again. Please leave my family alone. You promised to leave them out of this; I have great confidence that you will stand by your word. Ziamuddin will wake soon. He will be in much pain.” The doctor held up a bottle of pills. “These will help his pain. Please let him at least take these with so he can have some relief while he travels and searches for this doctor in the United States.” He slammed the bottle on the edge of the table and walked out.
The man who had been injecting medicine into the IV tubing looked at Abbas. Abbas returned the look but shook his head no. “He will be back again when we need him. He is just a little frustrated now, but that will pass. Otherwise he knows the consequences.”
Ziamuddin started to turn from side to side on the table and moan in pain. His hands quickly grabbed his side as he rolled to and fro. “Uhh. The pain is very bad. Oh, please is there anything I can take? Please, Abbas. Is there anything at all?”
Abbas looked down at the bottle of pills, at the boy, and at the man near the IV tubing. “Please, my friend, take two of these, and then we must get going. We need to catch a plane to Kabul.” He gave the young man the medicine with a cup of water. He turned to the other man. “Is the transportation ready?”
“Yes,” replied the man. “There is an Airbus to take him to the capital, and from there he will leave for the United States. Here are the tickets. There are two tickets for the Airbus as you requested.” He handed over a manila envelope.
The young man suddenly sat up and vomited onto the floor. The two other men quickly jumped back as a reflex reaction.
“That will make you feel better,” lied Abbas. “Now we must get going. We need to get on that Airbus. Let’s go, my friend. I will remind you of the plan that we had discussed last night on the plane.”
Young Ziamuddin slowly attempted to get off the table, but he collapsed to the floor.
“Please, Abbas, let this poor soul take a moment to recover from the surgery. You have enough time to catch the Airbus. Besides, there is another after that, and you will still get to Kabul in time for his flight to the United States,” warned the other man.
“Fine, fine, we will wait a few minutes, but I want to leave in thirty minutes and no longer. Do you understand, my friend?”
“Yes, of course, Abbas. That should be sufficient time to allow him to recover. I’m sure you can still make your flight without any problems.”
Abbas helped the man get the young surgical patient back onto the table. Abbas motioned the other man to clean the mess and made his way to a narrow wooden door. He opened it and squinted at the daylight. After his eyes acclimated to the bright light from the dark gloom of the room, he watched the car of Dr. Mohammad race away. The car sprayed dirt and sand as it made its way back to the main road. The car had disappeared from view after a few moments, but the cloud of dust was still visible. It became hazier with time, and the dust eventually settled back down to the ground.
Abbas still did not move. He watched the sun begin to fall and studied the land in front of him. He thought about what Ahmed said about the mission. He, like many others, have given up the cause and moved on in their lives. But Abbas thought about the courageous Ziamuddin and his peers who still believed. Abbas reminisced about the promise he made to his father as he lay in his arms dying. His father had blood all over him from four bullet holes. “Abbas,” he said, “you must keep up the fight. You must move forward with our mission. We will prevail. You must, my son…” As his father finished his final words, the young Abbas held his dying father in his arms and prom
ised, “I will, my papa. I will.”
“Abbas!” called a voice from inside. “Our friend is better now. We can safely move him to the car. Let me take you two
to your plane, and I will come back to clean this mess.”
“Fine, that will be good.” Abbas reached over to hug the other man. “You have been a good friend and a true comrade with unyielding support to the cause. My father would have been so proud.” He released his grip on the man’s shoulders and shook his hand firmly.
The two older men helped young Ziamuddin to the car. It was a rusty black vehicle with paint peeling and dents in the hood and on the sides. A taillight was missing, and none of the tires had hubcaps.
These faults were unimportant to the men. All that mattered was that the key went into the ignition, turned, and started the car.
The three men were very somber on the journey to the airport. The young man slept most of the way, and Abbas and his friend stayed quiet. When they arrived at the airport, the car pulled up to a curb to let Abbas and Ziamuddin out. Neither had any luggage. None was needed.
Abbas again shook the driver’s hand. “Thank you again, my friend,” he said, “I will contact you soon.”
The man replied, “Good luck to both of you.”
The sky was nearly dark by the time the small airplane took off. Abbas and the young man sat next to each other. Once the doors were closed and the plane started to move on the runway, Abbas looked nonchalantly forward and backward to make sure the seats around them were free of any passengers. The seats across the aisle were also empty. He was pleased but not surprised. The plan was to purchase all the seats around them so he could discuss the plan without unwanted ears listening.
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